The poet begins where the man ends. The man's lot is to live his human life, the poet's to invent what is nonexistent.

I am I plus my surroundings; and if I do not preserve the latter, I do not preserve myself.

This is the gravest danger that today threatens civilization: State intervention; the absorption of all spontaneous social effort by the State, that is to say, of spontaneous historical action, which in the long run sustains, nourishes, and impels human destinies.

Whoever has not felt the danger of our times palpitating under his hand, has not really penetrated to the vitals of destiny, he has merely pricked the surface.

Life is the external text, the burning bush by the edge of the path from which God speaks.

If the human intellect functions, it is actually in order to solve the problems which the man's inner destiny sets it.

Our firmest convictions are apt to be the most suspect; they mark our limitations and our bounds. Life is a petty thing unless it is moved by the indomitable urge to extend its boundaries.